


Death Can Truly Be the Kindest Thing in the World, Sometimes

by Youkoartemis



Series: God!Ryan AU [7]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: (No Ryan doesn't get paired up with any OCs), (but it gets stopped before it actually happens!), (his relationship with them is purely platonic), Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, God!Ryan AU, Hurt/Comfort, Ryan being the sweetest and most caring individual ever, Suicide Attempt, and proving he is the ultimate cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youkoartemis/pseuds/Youkoartemis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan cares for people more than most people know; one needs only to ask, and he’ll prove it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Can Truly Be the Kindest Thing in the World, Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic requested by anonymous on Tumblr. The exact prompt was:
> 
> "Can I suggest an idea? What if, since Ryan is the God of Death, people who commit suicide send a prayer to him before they take their own lives. Ryan hears the prayers and goes to them, just talking to them and persuading them to not give up. He comforts them, convinces them to keep living, and encourages them to call for him if they want to talk again. He save a lot of lives this way, and some of them even start acting as his followers and help others the way he helped them."
> 
> I, obviously, thought this idea was amazing and went for it.  
> (Also, two God!Ryan fics in two days? I'm clearly spoiling my readers; enjoy~)

Candace was gonna do it; she was gonna end things. She’d tried so hard, but it just wasn’t enough. _She_ wasn’t enough. But right before she drove in the razor, she sent up a prayer to the God of Death. He was feared and reviled, but she was gonna be in his hands soon enough, so she might as well sacrifice her soul to him, right?

“For you, Mad God.” She whispered, raising the knife.

“Please don’t.” A soft male voice requested from mere feet away. 

She gasped and twisted to stare at the man who’d appeared in her locked room. He was broad of shoulder and wore a black suit jacket over a white button-up shirt. There was a small purple flower in one of the button holes of his jacket, and a white square of cloth was in his breast pocket. He was wearing a kilt, and had sandy brown hair and the clearest blue eyes Candace had ever seen in her life. He was honestly quite a handsome man, if Candace were being honest with herself.

But more importantly…

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?!” Candace demanded, scrambling back and pointing her knife in the man’s direction, hands shaking.

“You call for me, yet don’t recognize me? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…” The man said softly, sighing, “I am the God of Ice and Death.” He informed her, expression serious.

“The Mad God…” She breathed, terrified despite herself.

The god winced at her words.

“I…don’t particularly care for that title.” He told her softly, grimacing. “It’s…distasteful.”

“Oh… S-sorry sir - uh. Or- or whatever you would pre-pref-fer to be referred to as.” She stuttered in response.

“Ryan.” The god stated. “My name is Ryan.”

“Ryan, then.” Candace agreed, feeling like she was dreaming. “Why- why are you here?”

“Because you called for me.” Was his very frank and simple response, eyes open and honest.

“But… Why me? Why now? I’m not- I’m not important! I’m not worth-”

“-You’re wrong.” The god interrupted softly, starting to reach out before deciding better of it, “You’re not unimportant; you’re _very_ important.”

Candace laughed bitterly.

“Oh, yes, I’m _sure!”_ She spat, losing her temper. “I’m so _fucking_ important! Everyone leaves me and nobody cares! I- I just wanted her to _love me…!”_ She exclaimed, beginning to sob, knife falling from her hands.

Ryan moved forward, very tentatively reaching out before pulling her into a hug. He was surprisingly warm for a god of ice. He gently shushed her, holding her close as he slowly rocked back and forth, humming some soft melody she only half-remembered from her childhood, back before her mother’s death.

“That’s my mom’s…” _lullaby,_ she finished silently, still crying. Ryan just continued to hum her mother’s lullaby, rocking her back and forth and rubbing her back.

“Why? Why do you care so much?” She asked brokenly, “You’re the god of death! You’re not-” _supposed to be this nice._

“I don’t understand why everyone thinks I’m a horrible being just because of my aspects.” Ryan admitted softly, “But I’ve _always_ cared, Candace. I’ve cared since the moment your life began.”

“But _why?_ I’m nothing special!” Candace exclaimed tearfully.

“That’s not true!” Ryan denied, voice rising as he insisted, “You’re _very_ special! You’re special, and _I_ care about you, even if you think no one cares.”

“But _why_ do you care?!”

“Because you’re precious to me. You’re Candace LeBlanc, and you love dancing, and music, and you owned a stuffed monkey named Mr. Bibbles who you took everywhere with you until a dog ate him, and then he got repaired and stayed in your room. You practiced ballet until you were thirteen and then you moved to different forms of dance. You had your first kiss with Eugene Gillard under the sycamores when you were seven, but felt nothing. You kissed Cindy Piper when you were fourteen while playing spin-the-bottle and felt _everything._ You’re unique, and precious, and special, and I care deeply for and about you.” The god explained, causing her to gasp and start crying anew, because he knew so much about her. So many things she’d kept private, and yet…

“But everyone always tells me that I’m a waste of space, ‘cause I’m not pretty, or- or smart, or-”

“-Hey.” Ryan interrupted, drawing her attention as he very gently lifted her chin so she met his eyes. Those blue eyes of his were filled with kindness and compassion and, more than that, _understanding._ He _understood_ her. “You’re none of those things. You are kind, and radiant, and graceful, and so what if you’re overweight? You’re _beautiful,_ Candace. Inside and outside. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you, because you’re spectacular and awe-inspiring exactly as you are.”

Candace sobbed softly. This was the first time anyone had ever told her she was beautiful, or any of the other things he’d told her. She didn’t deserve this.

“You _do_ deserve this, Candace.” Ryan interrupted, voice soft but filled with so much sincerity. “You deserve this and _so much more.”_

Candace wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, but she _wanted_ to believe him. She really, _really_ wanted to.

“But why did you wait until now to say anything?” She asked, voice cracking.

“Because I had to wait until you called upon me. Those’re the rules.” Ryan explained, sounding intensely sad as he stroked her hair with one warm hand.

“Oh…” It made sense, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. “Will you. Will you stay with me…?”

“For as long as I can.” Ryan agreed, “And I’ll be back any time you need me, if it’s within my power to do so.”

Candace thanked him tearfully, and clung to him, curling up into his embrace and taking as much comfort as she could from being in death’s surprisingly warm and comforting arms.

When she woke up the next day, she was in her bed and the god was gone, but he’d left his jacket draped around her shoulders, and it still smelled like him (lilies, funerary incense, and crisp winter air with an undertone of masculine musk mixed with ashes). She pulled it closer to herself, breathing deeply of the scent, and could almost swear she felt a warm breeze brush past her, even though there were no open windows. In spite of everything she’d been feeling yesterday, she was happy to still be alive.

On her dresser she found a note. It was penned in a neat, elegant script, telling her that she should really consider confessing her feelings to Abigail, because the results might surprise her. It was signed with Ryan’s name, and, because she felt she could trust the god’s word, as he hadn’t yet led her wrong, she did.

Abigail returned her feelings, and Candace had never imagined that she could be so happy. She swore she could feel Ryan smiling at her from some unseen vantage point, and she thanked him for his advice and his care that night, making an offering to him.

From that day forward, Candace was a devout worshiper of the God of Ice and Death, the one who had cared for her when no one else had, and helped carry her back up when she was at her lowest point. And all he asked in return was, if she noticed someone else struggling like she had been, then she should help them as he had helped her. Who knows, she could save someone’s life and make them feel their lives had meaning again, just as Ryan had done for her.

Death could truly be the kindest thing in the world, sometimes.


End file.
